


but here comes mr. night, creeping over (so we punched him in the face)

by smallerthanzero



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Vol 2 Fixit, a little medical treatment and a lot of fluff, how does space work again?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 09:54:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12010290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallerthanzero/pseuds/smallerthanzero
Summary: After the events of Vol. 2, everyone could use some rest. And some medical treatment.





	but here comes mr. night, creeping over (so we punched him in the face)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sholio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sholio/gifts).



About thirty seconds after being dragged out of _the void of freaking space_ by Rocket and Drax, Yondu pulls himself away from Peter with a horrible cracking sound that is hopefully the frozen leather of his coat and not, like, bones or something, and stomps right out of the _Eclector_ ’s tiny airlock. 

Distracted by the spacesuit flickering around him as it detects a breathable mixture of air, Peter pauses for a moment before stomping right after him. “Hey, where you going, _dad_? We need to get you to medbay – you just about got killed out there, remember?” 

Yondu spins around, staggeringly slightly, but he still manages to stab a threatening finger in Peter’s general direction. “I don’t need no medicating, boy, but if you keep callin' me that you're sure as hell gonna need some- “ 

Peter gapes. “You don’t need medicating? You’re freaking _defrosting_!” Yondu’s voice is the only thing about him that holds even a spark of heat; his face and hands are covered in ice crystals, every movement sending brittle shards spinning out around them. 

Some of 'em are blue. Peter’s not sure if they’re blood or actual bits of Yondu, but, you know what, he’s had enough of people getting hurt because of him for today. Especially his – whatever Yondu is to him now. His last surviving parental figure? Just another person who wants Peter to be his and isn't above ripping out all his heartstrings to make it happen? 

An idiot who would come for Peter and stay behind for him and not have an extra spacesuit, is what. Peter owes Yondu his life now. Well, he already did, but now it matters; there was no other reason this time other than actual, genuine sentiment. 

_So what now_ , he thinks. Nothing, if Yondu dissolves into a puddle of icy blue like he seems intent on doing.

Distantly, he notices the others gathering around them. “Hey, guys.” 

“ _Hey_?” Rocket and Gamora say in tones of matching disbelief. 

“Hey,” Drax responds cheerfully, Mantis’ limp body cradled in his arms. “Oh good, Yondu’s not dead."

Gamora rolls her eyes and grabs Peter by the shoulder, spinning him into a fierce embrace that instantly makes him feel about a thousand times warmer.

He hugs her back, whispers “sorry” into her hair. She was right about Ego, incredibly right, and he’s unbelievably lucky to have the chance to admit it to her.

“Are you okay?” she murmurs into his chest. She sounds squished. Every fiber of his body wants to ignore it and hold her even tighter, but he takes a deep breath and forces his grip to loosen, bit by bit.

“Yeah,” he says, not really meaning it. “He was evil, and we killed him. That’s all that matters.” 

He tips his chin up to rest on her head and catches a glimpse of Nebula, who's glaring at her sister's back and looking awfully judgy for someone who appeared on Ego out of nowhere for the sole purpose of finding Gamora. "What's up with Nebula? You two work something out?" 

Gamora sighs, pulling her head a little further away from his chest. "It's a long story. But I don't think she wants to kill me anymore." 

"Awesome," he grins. "I knew it was gonna be a family reunion."

“And Yondu?” she says, loud enough for the man himself to hear. “What are we going to do about him?”

“Yondu,” he repeats, turning to face the glare he knows is awaiting him, “is about to get some serious medical attention. And maybe psychological attention too, while we’re at it.” 

Yondu just scowls up at Peter from his slouch against a bulkhead, then jerks his chin towards Nebula, hovering awkwardly behind the rest of them. “I ain’t going unless she comes too. She ran enough electricity through her body to power the entire mining ship – if anyone’s gonna get poked at around here, it should be her.”

They all turn to look at Nebula, who has a pretty impressive glare of her own despite the electrical burns covering one of her hands (and the real, actually-caused-by-fire burns on the rest of her). “I will _not_ –“ 

A green hand drops onto her shoulder. “Yes, you will,” Gamora says sharply. ‘Everybody, listen.” 

All of them, even Yondu, stand up a little straighter. 

“We are _all_ going to the medbay. Mantis is still unconscious. Peter has been stabbed through the chest by Ego’s light at least twice. And Yondu needs to be looked over, whether he wants to or not. Rocket will scan us all, and then we will rest.”

Peter looks at Yondu. Yondu looks at Gamora. Gamora stares coolly back at him and then, inexplicably, tilts her head towards Peter. 

Yondu glances over at him too, heaves a sigh that turns into a cough. Peter's about ready to sling the stubborn jerkwad over his shoulder and carry him to the medbay if he has to when Yondu finally pushes himself to his feet. "Fine, let's get goin' before one of us drops dead."

"If someone drops dead it's gonna be you, old man," Peter grumbles, but he's grinning as they all start shuffling down the corridor, pulling one of Yondu's still-icy arms over his shoulder and ignoring the hissed protests. 

Drax shrugs, shifting Mantis’ head to rest more comfortably on his shoulder. “Yondu is certainly the most likely to die suddenly. But we should all still go to the medbay. This will be an excellent chance for me to locate some ointment for my nipples.”

Rocket cackles. Nebula gives them both an incredulous look. Gamora just shakes her head, scoops Mantis out of his arms, and nods at Peter. "Lead the way.” 

///

Every quadrant on the _Eclector_ has its own medical facilities, and this is the smallest one, barely larger than the Milano’s cockpit. It’s well stocked, as befitting any vessel meant to stay in space for long periods of time, but there are only four beds.

Mantis takes up one, Drax sitting on the edge to treat the bruise on her forehead and the burn on her wrist. Her face no longer has the slack look of unconsciousness, but now her mouth is pinched, concentrating, as if she is still telling someone to go to sleep. Maybe she’s telling herself – unsure if they’ve won, afraid of whatever lies ahead.

Gamora looks at the girl’s limp hand, a hand that held back the mind of a Celestial for a few precious minutes, and feels a quiet sort of pride. If nothing else, she has helped to save another girl from the evils that roam restless on the fringes of the universe. She will help Mantis learn about being free. Maybe they will even become friends.

If Mantis ever wakes up, that is.

Then Rocket scans her, and she’s immediately escorted to a bed by Peter – fingers scraped raw and burned horribly from climbing molten rock, collarbone bent slightly out of shape from shouldering an M-ship cannon, nerves still tingling from Rocket’s attempt to keep her from getting killed. It will only take her a few hours to recover, she knows, but it still hurts enough that she's glad to lie down.

Nebula is relegated to the third bed (“wait, you were _in_ a fire?” Rocket asks. “What the hell? You tried to sell me, and I still feel sorry for you and your inability to avoid burning things.”), and Yondu to the last one as he tries to shove Peter towards it and nearly falls over. 

“Quill’s not in too good shape either,” Rocket says, whiskers twitching as he taps at the scanner display. “Lots of bruises and cuts, couple strained tendons, some skin that’s been sandpapered raw from all that rock slinging he's been doing. Not to mention the whole Ego-tentacle thing. One of you three needs to share with him.”

“I pick Yondu,” Peter says, looking about ready to fall over himself. “We really need to talk.” 

“You need to _sleep_ , Peter,” Gamora insists.

“No and no,” Yondu snaps, crossing his arms. “Why don’t you share with Greenie over there? You feelin’ shy, boy?”

Peter flushes. “We’re, uh, not actually in a relationship, there was this whole conversation about pelvic sorcery, and – Gamora, did I ever apologize for what I said down on Ego? Because I’m really, really sorry – like, if we could forget any of that happened at all it would be great -“ 

Gamora and Yondu’s eyes meet around him, and for a moment they share a single, shining instant of complete understanding.

Then Peter looks at her with the sad, sad eyes of a wounded animal, mouthing “help me out here?” and the moment is over.

“You rescued him,” Gamora says to Yondu. “That means you get to be his pillow for the foreseeable future. Congratulations.” Yondu opens his mouth to protest, but she’s already reclining on her bed, eyes closed as the burns on her palms start to scab over of their own accord.

///

He’s staring at the ceiling, hoping he’ll pass out before this day can become any more of a disaster, but sure enough Quill’s face scoots into his line of vision before he gets to do anything fun like being unconscious for the next twelve hours. 

Kid’s even more twitchy than usual, eyes darting all over like Yondu's too slippery to look at. Either that, or he's got a concussion and his brain’s fit to explode. "You need something, boy?"

“Look, I know you said some things – and you might need some space – I mean, not _space_ , obviously, you really don’t need any more of that, but you know what I mean – listen, if it really bothers you, I can find somewhere else to sleep.”

Yondu grunts and snatches at Quill’s arm, tugging until he hears the sound of a body hitting a mattress. “Shut up an’ sleep.” 

Quill shuffles closer until their shoulders touch. “You know,” he murmurs, “you could’ve just sent me a message, every now and then. You didn’t have to cross half the galaxy or anything.”

“You say that,” he mumbles back, “and then you go’n do stupid shit like going off with a man what wants to kill you.” 

“…when Rocket told you where I was, you must’ve been really worried, huh. Especially if you already knew that crackpot.”

“It was mostly the rat. He had us take seven hundred jumps, direct-like, to get here.”

“Seven _hundred_?” Peter says gleefully. “That must’ve been awesome.”

Yondu groans. “Never again. Not even to save your sorry hide.”

“Yeah, yeah. So, mostly Rocket? That’s at least a little bit of worry from you too, right?”

“You got a job now, boy. Friends. I wasn’t about to let you screw all that up.”

Peter moves even closer, close enough that Yondu can hear him sigh. “Oh.”

“… maybe I was just a little worried, too,” Yondu says finally, half under his breath. 

He closes his eyes for the specific purpose of not seeing Quill’s stupid happy grin, then opens them again as he realizes there’s something important he _hasn’t_ seen in far too long. “Where’s that music box of yours?”

There’s a long, suspicious silence. “Ego broke it.”

Yondu knows that Ego is dead. Thanks to Rocket’s aero-rig, he even knows that the jackass died afraid and alone, knowing that everything he worked for was complete and utter _shit_ in the eyes of his kid. But still, even through the darkening vision that tells him his body’s had enough for one day, he can’t help but see red. 

“Don’t worry, boy,” he mutters, one hand moving to pat roughly at Quill’s thick head. He thinks about a rectangle of black plastic that’s probably still in his quarters – which, lucky enough, happen to be on this quadrant. “I’ll getchyur music back.”

"Okay," Peter says sleepily. "And for what it's worth, you'd definitely be a better dad than Ego."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure he ate his kids for _real._ "

///

Rocket saves Nebula for last. 

After checking on Gamora’s burns and finding some kind of moisturizing thing that should keep Yondu’s dehydrated skin in one piece for the moment, he finally crosses the room to her, holding his paw out for her arm. “Is that gonna fix itself, or does it need some doctoring?” Nebula doesn’t move. “Or we could just leave it that way, that’s definitely an option too.” 

She sneers, but any harshness the look might hold is undercut by the bright yellow blanket hood she’s wearing, courtesy of Drax (“she looks cold, and her head is very disturbing”). “It’s not real skin.”

Rocket scoffs. “Well, I know that. Got some experience with cybernetics myself.” 

She blinks, pupils huge in her patchwork face. “Then you know it will heal. Most things that don’t kill me do.” 

“Okay,” he says, shrugging. “Have fun in your corner, then.” 

He turns to leave, but there’s a quiet growl and a familiar rustling noise that makes him turn around. Groot’s on the bed with Nebula, tugging at her hand with tiny fingers as she tries to pull away from him. “What is your – your _tree child_ doing to me?” 

“Eh, he won’t kill you. Probably.” Still, he watches closely as Groot climbs onto Nebula’s hand and looks up at her. 

“I am Groot,” he says.

“He’s still mad at you for convincing him to free you and then immediately betraying us.” 

“Gamora was going to betray me. She wanted to send me to prison!” Nebula voice is sullen bordering on a snarl, but Groot stands unmoving in her palm.

“I am Groot.” 

“He knows. But he’s also glad that you didn’t let Taserface kill us.” Rocket pauses. “Yep, it’s still a really stupid name.

“I’m glad too,” Nebula tells Groot reluctantly. “Gamora seems to like you, even though you’re tiny and useless. She would probably have killed me if you died.”

“You know he’s killed people before, right?” 

“I am Groot.”

“He says he hopes that you feel better,” Rocket concludes. Groot scrambles forward to her wrist, drops a small kiss on the charred flesh there, and scrambles back over to Rocket’s shoulder. 

Nebula rubs wonderingly at the point of contact with her other hand. “How did you people raise _him_?”

“Hell if I know. Get some rest, or at least stop looking so murderous and let the rest of us feel safe enough to get a little shut-eye.” Nebula doesn’t close her eyes, but she pulls the yellow blanket a little closer around herself and relaxes into its depths just a little. He figures that’s close enough.

He heads over to Mantis next, wondering if he can try some kind of brainwave analysis, but halfway across the small room Groot’s weight disappears from his shoulder. “Hey, where you going, buddy?” 

“I am Groot,” Groot says, pulling himself onto Yondu and Peter’s bed. Both of them are fast asleep, Peter’s head smashed sideways into Yondu’s shoulder and Yondu with one arm thrown protectively across him. Rocket watches him climb delicately over the both of them, nestling in the space under Peter’s chin, and can’t help but smile as the little tree waves good night to him before curling up with a yawn.

Drax is asleep too, one hand on Mantis’ bared elbow. Her antennae are glowing softly – he doesn’t know what that means, but he figures it’s a good sign. 

He takes one more look at his weird, accident-prone family, grabs an extra blanket, and decides to make his way to the bridge. He’ll get Kraglin to show him how this thing flies, and maybe take over for a while.

He’d say they were headed home, but to him it looks kind of like they’re already there.


End file.
